


ashes to ashes

by hayan_nabi



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Cat!Suga, Character Death, Clumsy Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, My First Fanfic, tags to be added as i continue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-01-30 22:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12663141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayan_nabi/pseuds/hayan_nabi
Summary: Namjoon trips and falls, quite literally, into Seokjin's world.And maybe into his heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've actually been planning out this fic for about a year and a half but I've only gotten the courage to post it now.

If there was one thing Kim Seokjin regretted, it would have been climbing the old pine tree when he was seven. It was a simple childish dare of who could get the highest, and he had been determined to win. Not knowing how to climb a tree didn't slow him down in the slightest. With a huff, he jumped and caught the lowest branch, scrambling for a toehold on the thick trunk. The other kids jeered at him from above, calling him a weakling and a fool.

Refusing to let the the insults get to him, he hauled himself onto the bough and began to climb. His hands reached out to grab onto limb after limb, and his long legs straddled the branches easily. Even after the others gave up and declared him the winner, he didn't stop. He kept scaling the massive thing until the calls for him to come down were no louder than the rustling leaves. The branches began to shake in the breeze, appearing so thin he dared not go any further. He looked down and saw the worried gestures of his mother and the other children cupping their hands around their mouths to shout at him. He smiled, knowing he had just proved them all wrong.

A sudden gust of wind, perhaps exasperated with his stubborn determination, blew at the tree and knocked him off balance. The branch he was holding snapped off and sent him falling. He tumbled into the tangled web of branches and leaves he had ascended, wincing as they sliced into his limbs and face. Deciding he had been punished enough, a branch hit his temple and knocked him unconscious just before he crashed to the ground.

When he woke up, right leg broken in four places and left side of his face destroyed beyond recognition, everything changed. His parents couldn't look at him, their gazes always moving to something else. The children refused to acknowledge him, pretending he wasn’t there when he tried to join their games. When the other villagers saw him, they turned away and whispered among themselves, eyeing him like he was a monster. That’s what they thought he was—not a child injured in an accident, but a cursed _thing_ who had enraged the spirits and paid with his humanity.

The one thing he knew for certain was that if he hadn’t climbed the tree that autumn day, he wouldn’t still be in this world.

And that would have been for the best.

The pine tree was still there, albeit much larger. Countless seasons of rain and sun gave it ample time to grow to the towering giant it was today. The world, too, had changed. Now a steel fence, almost four times as tall as him, had been erected around the mountain he called home. There were more people who lived in the plains below. Most of the old farmlands were gone, built over with houses and stores to support the expanding population.

He had watched it all happen. Unlike everything else, he didn’t seem to have changed at all in those years.

But that was a lie.

If he climbed the tree today and made it to the highest branch possible, he would be much higher up than before. But if he fell, he wouldn’t be as injured.

In fact, he wouldn’t receive a single scratch.

Because he wasn’t human anymore. How could he be, when something so important had been taken from him?

No, he had lost something every human had taken for granted. Had feared, even, but knew it was inevitable.

The ability to _die_.

It was a cool spring evening, and he was clutching a bouquet of flowers for the dead close to his chest. To him, however, it was heavier than a lump of lead. He opened the trap door and descended the rickety steps to the darkened cellar.

Scraps of paper, covered with tiny, almost illegible scrawl, littered the floor of the first room. In the middle of the paper field was a series of wooden tables pushed together. On them were piles upon piles of books and scrolls, ranging from ancient wood codices to rolls of yellowing papyrus. The only light source was the candle he was holding, which cast the symbols carved into the walls in an eerie light. The charms and chimes hanging from the ceiling only served to perpetuate the mystical atmosphere.

He walked through with no more than a passing glance, knowing the floor so well he didn’t even need to look to sidestep the papers floating about his feet. His footsteps halted, just for a moment, when he reached the door to the second room. It was where the previous owner had kept her rarer items, and the only clue to its existence was a small keyhole and a narrow seam. Collecting himself, he unlocked the door and slid it open. The room was empty, save for rows of wooden shelves fixed into the far wall.

On the shelves were rows of jars, all but one holding a small glowing butterfly.

All but one holding a human soul.

This room was a graveyard, a reminder of how wrong and unnatural he was.

A reminder of all that he stole.

The souls flew around in their jars as he came close, whispering near-incomprehensible words.

_Dare to-_

_Why you-_

_No-_

_Just tell-_

_Hope-_

Their anger for him had diminished, replaced with misery and desolation. But their fear was still there. They still feared him, so many moons after their deaths.

They were safe here, he liked to convince himself. The house was isolated on the mountain, the basement protected with magic laid deep into its foundation. No matter what, they would be safe. They had to be. He had already stripped them of so much; the least he could do was protect what little they had left.

He gently set the candle on the floor. Their murmurs rose in volume as he removed the fortnight-old flowers from the tops of each jar and replaced them with new ones.

_You must be so-_

_It really-_

_Come any-_

He stopped in front of each one, bowing his head in respect. There were so many jars. Too many. Each one he passed, carefully labelled with the name of the soul inside, was another stab to his heart.

He hesitated in front of the last one, hands trembling as he laid the last flower on the lid of the empty jar. His first kill. _Jung Eunji_.

Or where she should have been.

To the rest of the world, there was no Jung Eunji. There never had been. But he remembered, even after they all forgot. She had been a sister, a daughter, a friend. She had once been the apple of his eye. However, because of his foolishness, he had removed her from everyone else’s minds. He would always remember.

Holding a bouquet of wilted flowers and the candle, he stepped out of the graveyard and back into the other room. He gave one last look to the corner that kept his secrets, regrets weighing his steps.

It was the rustling of the trees that alerted him to something amiss. He had been leaning against one of the stone walls in the cellar, absorbed in rereading one of the medicine books, when he heard the wind chimes.

He had hung them from several of the trees nearest to the house many moons ago, instructing them to only sound when there was danger.

 _A boy is here_ , the trees hummed _._

“What?” He whispered in disbelief. No one came up the mountain anymore. No one dared to try, especially after Sohye and Yeri disappeared and the fence was built.

 _Hurt,_ the trees echoed, _alone._

Another chorus of wind chimes was enough to spur him to movement.

He stood up, setting the volume down on the table. Without a second thought, he grabbed his candle, dashed up the stairs, and ran out the front door.

Barely illuminated by the crescent moon, the treetops shook as Seokjin looked to them for guidance. “Where is he?”

 _North side,_ they rustled, _near the riverpool._

After holding his hand over the candle to brighten the flame, he ran into the forest.

The branches leaned out of his way as he bolted past to ease his journey.

 _Keep left_ , the leaves of a maple tree whispered to him as he whipped by, _over there_.

He nodded to the tree, dashing in the direction of the river with renewed vigor. It had been such a long time since he had seen a human, and he couldn’t deny his excitement. However, the larger, more rational part of his mind quickly reminded him of what happened the last time he had met other people. The memory of Bom screaming as Hyejin died before she could even hit the ground was enough to extinguish his enthusiasm.

He wrestled the images away. They were dead. It had already happened. He could not change their fates now. But he could help the boy. This was a death that he could prevent.

Before long, Seokjin broke out of the thick forest and onto the grassy slope that led down to the river.

 _Here,_ all the trees by the river shouted, _here here here._

The tips of the fir trees swayed and let the moon shine through. The light illuminated a figure that was crumpled up on the stony riverbank. He gasped and took a few steps forward.

“Sir, are you alright?” He asked, making sure to keep the candle lowered so his face would remain in shadow.

No response.

He took a few slow, cautious steps closer, “Sir?”

Still nothing.

The fir tree nearest to him ruffled its leaves, forcing a branch to break off and land behind him. He turned, bowing to the tree in thanks, and picked it up.  
“Hello?” he prodded the figure with the stick.

Silence.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he set the candle down and knelt, tapping the man’s chest with the branch. When no response came, he took a breath to steel himself and inched closer until he was right next to him. He grabbed the candle with shaky hands and held it over the unconscious person to see him better. It was a young man. Then again, he thought darkly, any normal human would be considered young compared to him.

Looking closer, the boy appeared to be around the same age at which Seokjin stopped living. Possibly a student like Sohye or Yeri or Chaeyoung had been, but somehow he seemed older. His face was coated in liquid, he realized, as he stared at him.

He touched his forehead and held his fingertips up to the candlelight, freezing when he realized what the liquid was.

_Blood._

_Hurt_ , the trees repeated. _Hurt._

Time seemed to slow down as Seokjin watched the blood drip off of his fingers. He had to help this boy, but how? The nearest hospital was hours away in the city, and he needed attention as soon as possible. If Seokjin left him at the bottom of the mountain, there was little chance that someone would discover him before morning. He could transport them both back to the house, but he hadn’t transported another being, let alone a non-magical one, in years. If it went wrong, and transportation magic was difficult to control at best, he might end up killing the boy. He ran through countless situations and possibilities, but he kept going back to one option.

Yoongi was going to hate this, but it was Seokjin’s best chance at saving the boy.

“Suga!” He shouted desperately, “Suga! I summon thee!”

A few paces in front of him, a small patch of air started to glow and sparkle. The light solidified and landed on the ground in the form of an annoyed white cat. Yoongi stalked toward him, murder in his eyes and the swaying of his tail.

 _Never call me Su- Seokjin, what is this?_ His meow rose in shock as he realized what was in front of them.

“A human boy, Yoongi,” he stated, marveling at how calm his voice was, “unconscious. Must have hit his head somehow.”

He had somehow taken to sitting beside him and running a slow hand through his hair. It was wet, Seokjin didn't know if it was from blood or water, and cold like ice, but it was comforting nonetheless.

 _No, Seokjin, no. I know what you are thinking._ He shook his head vigorously, _It is a terrible idea. You might-_

He cut him off before he could finish. “I know, Yoongi, I know. But I cannot leave him to die.”

_Yes you c-_

“After he wakes up,” Seokjin talked right over him, “he might stumble upon me later himself. At least this way we can keep track of him.” He wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more, Yoongi or himself.

Annoyance flickered in the cat’s blue eyes. _Fine. It will be his blood on your hands anyways. And when you come to me crying and cradling another soul to your chest, the only thing I will tell you is_ I told you so.

He wasn’t even shocked by Yoongi’s harsh words. He knew that by taking the boy in, there was a chance he was dooming him to death. But the trees, wiser and more ancient than he, must have led Seokjin to him for some reason.

He cleared his throat, “Suga, transport him to the house.”

 _Do it yourself and leave me out of this._ Yoongi hissed, baring his teeth.

“The only creature I’ve transported in the past score has been myself.” Seokjin pleaded, “You know how easily it could turn sour if I tried it on the both of us.”

_Why don’t you just levitate him?_

“He has a head injury, Yoongi. It would take too long. And what if he wakes up?” he added, trying not to get exasperated with the familiar. “Please, Yoongi. I’ve not asked you for anything in years.”

 _Fine,_ Yoongi rolled his eyes, _but I still think you’ve gone mad_.

“I’ll take it.”

With a sigh, Yoongi looked up, letting the light consume his form. The incorporeal form expanded and brightened, casting their surroundings in a brilliant white. When the glow faded, a male with angular eyes and silvery-white hair stood in his place.

Yoongi looked down at his faintly glowing hands, moving his fingers like he was playing a piano in midair. Knowing Yoongi, Seokjin mused, he probably was. He seemed in awe of his own human body.

Noticing Seokjin’s stare, he cleared his throat and said, “Transport yourself first. I’ll take him after you disappear.”

“Thank y-”

He held his hand up. “Go.”

Seokjin nodded and closed his eyes. The world rushed away and back to him, and when he opened his eyes, he was standing in the middle of the antechamber. A moment later, Yoongi appeared beside him, carrying the unconscious boy in his arms and holding the candle with his teeth.

He spit it out and hovered it in front of him. “You forgot something.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi pressed his lips together and adjusted his hold, looking down on the boy with slight distaste. “Whose room are you planning to put him in?”

Seokjin faltered. “I hadn’t thought that far.”

Yoongi snorted. “Impulsive as ever, I see. Put him in the old bat’s room, it’s not like anyone is using it.”

“No!” he said, with an intensity that surprised both of them. “Mine is closer.” he murmured.

Yoongi shrugged and carried the boy through the doorway but turned around to look at Seokjin, fixing him with a comforting gaze.

“It’s not your fault, Seokjin.” he said softly, “When will you realize that?”

With those parting words, Yoongi and the boy disappeared into the main room.


	2. Updates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edits, updates, and general info

*I'LL DELETE THIS WHEN I POST THE ACTUAL CHAPTER 2*

Edited and added a lot to the first chapter. Please reread if you've read it already, as I've introduced Yoongi as well as added plot and a few more hints to Seokjin's past. I was going to turn the addition into chapter 2, but it didn't feel right to me. The real chapter 2 is about 25% done and I'm aiming to get it done, reasonably edited, and up before April, but that may change.

Toodles,  
roseheartbookie

**Author's Note:**

> Updates will be irregular.  
> All grammar errors are my own.  
> Feel free to leave comments or kudos.  
> Or not.  
> Everything is subject to change.


End file.
